"Okay, that's my house there. Second next on the right. Yep, this one. You can stop now..."
Big Mac didn't respond. He may have nodded, but there was no way somepony travelling on his cart could have seen him do so. So it was only natural for Lyra to assume he hadn't heard somehow; thusly she tried again, only louder.
"Hey, stop! Argh... can't you hear me or something? I said, STOP! STOOO-"
The cart came to an instantaneous stop, mimicking the motion as if it had hit an imaginary stone wall. Lyra, still in the middle of yelling, was mildly surprised by the development. All the apples around her bounced a little; but by the virtue of being light and carrying little momentum, the small fruits stayed safely in their spot. Lyra, on the other hoof, was somewhat heavier than the average apple. She lunged forward, the second half of a word still in the process of leaving her mouth.
"-OOops?"
It was at that point Lyra lifted her legs and tried to brace, her reactions a second too late. She gave the box in front of her a bear-hug. Her nose dug into the contents; the wooden container was full of red and green apples. Her muzzle knocked a few of the fruits out of their place, the apples bouncing around her hooves. Her mane, also carried forward by momentum, covered her face and got into her eyes.
A perfect way to reach home all right, she groaned internally. The best possible conclusion to this day, really.
It could have only gotten better if the door fell out when she tried to get into her house. Or if her bed exploded under her for some inexplicable reason. All those would have really gone with the theme of her day; still, she wished none of them would actually come to pass.
Nup, this string of bad luck ends here. Happy thoughts! Happy thoughts. Stick it to fate, girl! It's only upwards from here.
The sweet taste of apple spread in her mouth, but she still found it in her to curl her lips into a wry smile. That hopelessly optimistic attitude was the most important, after all. It was what kept her going even when she had been freezing to death on a slope - or when she was sneaking her way into a castle, freezing, hungry and bleeding.
She firmly believed she would get through anything as long as she had that mentality, no matter how bad things got.
She rose back onto her hooves. An apple had become wedged into her mouth during the earlier break; she only noticed that after she had pulled her head out of the box. Frustrated by her rotten luck, she sneered and spat the fruit out. She may have had the willpower to grind on, but that didn't mean she would need to enjoy when an ill-tempered Fortuna kicked her around.
"I wonder if he is going to charge Master for that," Snowy hummed. The ghostly servant was sitting on a crate, eyeing the apple with the bite-marks. "I am not sure about the policy for chewed-on goods."
Lyra shot an angry glare at the windigo, her expression only softening when she realized the veracity of the unneeded remark. Then she shrugged and grabbed the apple with her magic, sliding it into her saddlebag.
Why do you only make sense when I'm worse off for it, she shook her head in silence as she walked past Snowy. A few more steps and she was at the end of the cart; there she gathered her strength and hopped off, careful that she caught the ground with her healthy leg first.
"Thanks for the ride," she grumbled to the red stallion who had ferried her home. She stalled for a second, mulling over the matter of the bitten apple; but she finally ceded the point to Snowy and fished the purse out of her saddlebag. A little fiddling with her magic and her purse was open; a shiny coin flew across the air and landed in the cart. Lyra made sure the move was as flashy as it could get; the coin landed on the cart's side and bounced onto its floor with a loud clang, making further clings until it finally ran out of momentum and became still.
There was no way the stallion could miss that. He raised one of his eyebrows and gave Lyra a puzzled stare.
"Don't you eye me, mister. That was for the apple I took off when you- er, I mean... I took during the trip. Consider it an extra purchase," Lyra stammered a little embarrassedly and stuffed her purse back into her saddlebag. "Take care on the way back home. And uh... try not to run over anypony, all right?"
The stallion didn't even grumble. He rolled his green eyes in complete silence and trotted off, the cart in tow. He moved really fast; Lyra watched the cart behind him rock around, each bump in the road made apparent. It was only at that point that she realized something.
"Shoot!" she slapped herself on the head. "I forgot to ask for his name."
"I concur - that would have been a thoughtful thing to do. It was real nice of him to carry Master home, wasn't it?" Snowy moved into her master's vision, the windigo's gaze also locked onto the stallion. They couldn't see him for too long - he took a corner and disappeared from their sight. "Completely free of charge, as well."
"That's the least I'd expect from a gentlecolt," Lyra yanked her head away with a huff. "Remember this bloke also kind of ran over me. That was some real scary stuff, right there."
"But of course. As Master decrees," Snowy nodded and followed Lyra towards the door of their house.
"I never knew writing could be such a free-style activity!" Snowy blinked rapidly, her muzzle hiding in the cover of her hooves. "Old Master was always so meticulous even about the most minute reports... it took him forever to write a page."
"Would you please stop comparing me to him?" Lyra gritted her teeth and glanced up. That was followed by a wide-eyed grimace and her own hooves bashing on her head. "AAAGH! COME DOWN FROM THERE!"
The windigo was perched on top of a picture that was hanging from the wall. For a pony such as Lyra - a pony who tended to forget how Snowy was just a ghost - , that sight was beyond surreal.
"Oh? I thought this was a nice spot... the whole room can be observed from here," Snowy demonstrated her reasoning by rapidly scanning the room with but a few tiny twists of her head. "Or is this picture a taboo? Does it carry importance to Master?"
"Yeah. Makes me regret the hundred bits I threw at that hack of an artist," Lyra squinted at the oddly coloured painting. It was supposed to be a tranquil landscape, but the actual outcome could only depict some alternate universe. She would have thrown the thing out long ago - were it not so expensive. The price tag made her reluctant to admit the mistake. "Of course it doesn't, duh. But you sitting there is just... ugh, it throws my thoughts off. Look, I can't even recall what I was going to write here! Argh."
"Oh!" Snowy hopped off right away, her ghostly form landing on the carpet below. "I am deeply sorry, Master. I shall-"
"-make up for everything and prove you're an asset and blah blah," Lyra interrupted the tirade she already knew inside-out. She didn't need to hear it one more time. She turned back to her diary instead; the open book was lying on her bed, a small puddle of ink marking the spot where she had stopped writing. She had forgotten about the quill, the sharpened piece of feather still pushed against the paper.
Par for the course, Lyra sighed at the sight and removed the quill right away. She ran her eyes to the left and looked at the window; pink-reddish clouds beckoned her in turn, the sun putting on its final show before disappearing beneath the horizon. Such a beautiful sight - yet, to Lyra, it only conveyed one sorrowful fact.
Still not tomorrow yet.
She needed something to offset the aggravation with. So she had an apple levitate out of her saddlebag, move right to her face... and stay there while she took a bite out of it. The fruit's texture was a little green and the taste was acidic; a little unripe, just as she had guessed. She didn't find the imperfect taste to her dislike, however; she kind of liked the change from the overly sweet default, in fact.
Ain't this great! Me and my peculiar tastes, she dug her head into the blanket on her bed, her muzzle drawing a thin line of apple-juice over the fabric. I wonder where I'm going to get unripe apples from.
"It's no laughing matter! I am trying to be useful!"
Turning her head so the wrinkles in the blanket didn't obscure her vision so much, Lyra peeked at the windigo. There was something strange about the creature, but she couldn't really place a hoof on it. She had a feeling that she was about to find that one out, however. Shortly.
What now? Did I offend her somehow?
"Snowy... look, I understand-" Lyra murmured, her voice distorted as her mouth was still dug into the smooth fabric covering her bed.
"With all due respect, I doubt Master truly understands!" Snowy barked, and the tone got Lyra's instant attention.
Springing up from her bed, Lyra turned to the windigo proper. The bored irritation from a moment ago was gone; she was quite focused. While they hadn't been together that long, she had never heard the windigo raise her voice. Not once. It stood to reason that the sudden angered voice carried significance. It had to mean something.
"This isn't just some... game! This is a serious affair!" Snowy cried out and walked towards Lyra, the pair of crimson eyes burning with whatever emotions lay bottled up in her. "I understand I'm not the best choice as far as servants go - I understand that well! All too well! That's why old Master shunned me from the get go. I had waited thirty years to prove that I... that I'm not a purposeless idiot who only clings to her Master and makes her Master's life miserable! I waited and waited... but my chance never showed itself. Old Master succumbed to age and I had to return to my amulet... so this once... this chance... I'm not giving up...! I am going to prove that I am worthy of being proud of!"
"Servants..." Lyra narrowed her eyes and gave the ghost a suspicious glare. The heartfelt plea was lost on her; not by indifference but because of a few words. She just couldn't help it. Those words struck her and she couldn't move past them. "That's the same thing that hooded pony said! The... the Source, right? You know that one, right? What can you tell me of her?"
"Hooded pony... the Source? No, nothing. I am sorry, Master," Snowy mumbled. Her head dropped; her whole being looked as if she was a translucent marionette-puppet - one which got its cords cut. "I do not recall anything to that effect."
"Tsch. Still, you recalled something... that's not too bad for a beginning. I remember you claiming you don't remember anything, period," Lyra licked her lips excitedly. She rushed to the windigo and tried to get a hold of its head; she wanted to look Snowy in the eyes, but her hooves passed right through the ghostly creature.
The windigo did get the hint however, and looked up anyway.
Whoa, Lyra flinched a little at the close-up sight. She looks pretty bad. Try as she might, she couldn't remember why Snowy would look so... worn. Weren't they fine when they had left the cart and entered the house?
"That was said in a situation where other, more pressing matters were present," Snowy looked away. Lyra wasn't sure how she could tell; the windigo lacked anything that could have passed for pupils. She just... knew, somehow. Intuitively. "Master's life was in peril. That always comes first; that's another thing I remember. Long, meticulous elaborations in matters that also confuse my own self... bringing Master into threat for the sake of such is absolutely out of the question."
"Ah. And here I was thinking that you're getting better," Lyra sighed and sat down. "Well... we're safe now, aren't we? Can you explain now, perhaps?"
Snowy glanced back at the pony and nodded. Then and there was the ideal situation for delicate matters. They were in Lyra's house, in Lyra's room; all alone to themselves as Bon still hadn't come home. Or had come and had left again already; the same end effect as far as they were concerned.
"As I said, my life before meeting old Master is missing from my memories," Snowy explained. Her tone was dry and her eyes returned to their lifeless, gemstone-like red hue; whatever had gotten her riled up, she managed to put the lid back onto it. "But there was something before that - I am sure of it. I cannot recall anything solid, but there are a few fragments that still linger on. I have no idea why they aren't gone themselves... but I feel lucky even for such morsels."
"Strange thing to feel lucky for," Lyra scratched her head. "I would be pissed if I forgot so much about myself."
"Only by those fragments do I know that I have lived since before old Master had found me," Snowy pondered. Her tone was bittersweet and she smiled; a smile tempered with tinge of sadness, yet an honest one all the same. "That is the only simple thing about my situation, though. I have no idea how I should feel beyond being thankful for the fact of my existence. Whether to be happy or sad about memories that had been lost - that surely must depend on the memories in question, yes? I can only surmise that one ought to be happy to lose sad memories, after all."
Snowy closed her eyes and chuckled to herself.
"It's complicated, I guess. Apart from one thing. I feel glad to have some proof that I have existed, regardless of what that proof might be. That fact won't change, no matter what had happened to me back there."
Lyra stared at the windigo, strange emotions swirling in her head. She opened her mouth but no words came out; she couldn't translate her thoughts into anything physical. She had the urge to say something, anything; it felt natural for her to want to comfort the creature. Only she couldn't. She could barely understand the issue, let alone comment meaningfully on it. Those thoughts, those worries - those feelings - belonged to a league way higher than anything she had partaken in. Her gravest problems were concerning for her career as a musician; never once had she had to stop and face something that wanted to erase the very trace of her whole existence.
So closed her mouth and continued to listen.
"But I digress. I do remember bits and pieces, but what remains is vague. Also little. I can recall that I was just one among the few chosen... but I can't tell who they were. Just that they were," Snowy carried on, her head tilted to the side as the gears inside her head spun up. "It is only a theory of mine, but I believe they were more powerful than I am. They would most likely know who they are and what they are capable of, for example. Not just a mostly empty shell like me. In truth I barely qualify as a servant. I can hardly serve when all I can do is offer outdated advices and snuff out flames."
"Well, you have saved my life once already. That may count," Lyra interrupted in a low tone and threw a wink at the ghostly creature. "You have also saved your old Master... even if he didn't really deserve it, the bastard."
"I bid Master to not judge old Master too harshly. He treated me roughly - but he treated everypony else roughly as well. In a way, he was more fair with me than I deserved," Snowy chuckled and rubbed her eyes. "Only the sedulous are worthy, after all. A servant who does nothing for the estate is ought to not receive from the estate either."
"You saved him," Lyra reiterated a point she felt the ghost was overlooking. "He literally owed his life to you. That should surely amount to something, yes?"
"That is... debatable, sadly. I remember little of that night - even of my own release, which has always puzzled me to no end," Snowy stopped rubbing her eyes, her hoof parked at the side of her head. She didn't look well; her crimson eyes fogged up like freshly opened windows in winter. "I hadn't done anything special, anyhow. I had only blocked the effects of cold on old Master; for cold is my old friend and still obeys my will. But even that meagre act had taken a heavy toll on me. It took desperate measures to keep old Master alive - and even now I wonder if he could have actually made it through without my assistance."
Snowy fell silent and her master - again - couldn't add anything of value. The two just stared at each other, both expecting the other to say something; but the mood only worsened as the awkward silence held up, raising the bar for the potential comebacks higher and higher.
Lyra wasn't sure what she could even say, for one. She was chewing on her lip and could hear her own heart beat; the most annoying sensation she could think of. How could somepony with so little cares in the world placate a creature that was so deep in self-doubt? Anything she could think of felt light and meaningless.
Ugh. I've never felt so superficial, she chided herself and gave the back of her head a rough rub. C'me on girl, think! What would a real heroine say?
"You're being negative," Lyra shook her head, citing one of the overworked phrases she hated so much. Still, that one had worked on her during her early days as a fresh musician; surely it could work just this once again. "As far as I care, you saved all your masters that you know of. Even if you hadn't done more, that should still be enough."
She deliberately omitted the part about the former Flash Freeze's entourage never making it back. She wished she could say she cared about those poor souls - but she would have been lying if she said she did. She didn't know a thing about them. She couldn't even imagine them. Snowy, on the other hoof, was sitting right in front of her, teetering on the edge of a major breakdown. It wasn't really a contest which side she would favour.
"Being negative... that maybe I am. Or maybe I just have a healthy dose of suspicion regarding myself," Snowy wrinkled her eyebrows and raised her nose, her gaze meeting Lyra's. "How would Master feel if Master was stripped of her purpose? Not just to the point of inability - but to where Master couldn't even tell what it was? What good does an existence without purpose do, Master? Especially one so transient such as mine?"
"Lose my purpose... that'd be music, I guess. So no music?" Lyra hummed out loud and put a hoof to her muzzle. "Well... that'd be a bummer, obviously. I'd feel pretty bad. But I don't think I would break down too much. Bon would back me up, see? She might yell and throw things at me, but she's really kind where it counts. I don't know what I'd do without her, really. I doubt she would part ways with me just because I can't perform at the Opera any more."
"Friends... another concept I had never learnt in detail during my time with old Master," Snowy put a wry grin forth. "Sounds something nice, though. Even so, I doubt that would be a route accessible to me. The terms are clear: I am only perceivable to Master and others such as Master."
"Huh, true that. So it's like... if I hadn't had Bon around," Lyra went back to mumbling. It was hard for her to imagine the situation, but she tried her best nevertheless - only abandoning the attempt when it became too hard on her feelings. "GAARGH! Stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid! That's a stupid suggestion! I couldn't bear anything like that on my own! It's way too stupid to even imagine that I would willingly-"
She fell silent and blinked at Snowy. She wasn't sure if she understood properly, but she finally had an inkling of the situation.
And she sure as heck didn't like what she had found.
"As a servant, I have but one purpose: and that is to be useful to my Master," Snowy made a deep bow, her front legs sliding forward until her forehead rested on the carpet. "I had failed in that task for over thirty years, day after day. Please... please allow me to rectify that mistake, Master."
Flinching away from the odd gesture, Lyra was all sorts of shaken. She had heard things she wasn't prepared to and now was given a request she knew she couldn't accept. She wasn't some feudal liege or anypony with power. She was an ordinary musician who led a care-free life. There was no way anypony could serve her and find meaning in the task.
Even so...
Despite all those rationalizations, she understood she was in no position to refuse. She would take the game Snowy was playing and turn it on her; formally become a Master, but in actuality find what the windigo did and make a use of that.
Who knows? Maybe this stupid ghost does carry some awesome potential, she thought to herself as she reached her decision. Maybe I could help my life with this, somehow. Or even better, I could help everypony!
An eyebrow of hers raising, Lyra gave herself a smile and a curt nod.
Yeah, that would be really nice, helping everypony. Like a real hero or something.
"Very well," she decreed, using all the acting skills she had picked up during her years in providing music to plays. "I agree to your terms! From this moment forth, you shall be my servant and I shall be thy master! My will shall be yours and you shall follow me wherever I lead you - roaming this world together as long as I can draw a breath!"
Unlike the theatrical demons, Snowy didn't break out the evil cackle or the brimstone cloud. She simply glanced up at the pony and wondered if Lyra had gone mad.
"Pfft... hahaha! Shows why I'm doing the parts which don't involve talking!" Lyra burst into a laughter. She couldn't handle the sheer awkwardness in any other way. "Anyway, it's a deal. Not sure what you're expecting of me, though... I'm not exactly the pony who'd be good at helping you unlock your potential. With that being said - I'm sure that you'll do something spectacular in time, with me or without me. I would be really surprised if the fame of the windigos were misattributed, to be honest."
Snowy didn't break her gaze or change expression; she remained as solid as a statue. As a ghost, she didn't even need to breathe - making the stillness even more eerie.
"You're making this awkwaaaard," Lyra hissed under her nose.
"Ah- ah! Sorry, Master. I was just... well, I was..." Snowy glanced away and snapped a hoof to her neck. Her ears dropped horizontal and her movements were uncharacteristically quick, proving that even ghosts could be anxious.
"Forget about it. I won't hear another word," Lyra huffed and turned away, ending the conversation that had been dragging on for too long. "You'll do fine, and that's my final word. Now let me finish my diary before Bon drops home."
Safe from the windigo's stare, Lyra allowed her true emotions onto her face. She wasn't sure what to do with the creature, to be honest. She had never thought she would be worried for such an ice-demon instead of being worried of one. She was also pretty sure she had just made a promise she wouldn't be able to keep - at least not without a serious boost of luck. She would need to sit down with Bon tomorrow and have a good talk about it. Bon had always been much more practical than her - surely she would come up with an idea.
Speaking of whom...
Just where is she anyway? Wasn't she just doing some shopping?
Huddling back down on her bed and grabbing the quill with her magic, Lyra felt oddly cheated. Had she waited and relied on Bon for her food, she would have wound up starving real badly.
Bon proved unreliable, Lyra shook her head and switched the quill for an apple, just as long as it took her to get a bite. How extraordinary! This is so going into the diary.
"Master..."
Lyra turned to the windigo as soon as she heard the call. It struck her a moment later how she certainly looked nothing like a dignified master should have; a moment of self-reflection that had been almost half an hour overdue. Snowy could only see a bandaged unicorn with a thoroughly ruffled mane, mouth open wide with a green apple sticking out of it.
Lyra really regretted not taking at least the apple out of her mouth before turning that way.
Think before you do things, think before you do things, think before you do things...
"Thank you," Snowy closed her eyes and made another deep bow. "That is all I had wished to say. I shall leave Master to her diary, then."
The apple dropped onto her bed as Lyra bit a big chunk out of it, she couldn't help but find that sort of declaration weird. She had no willingness nor time to go back and ponder on the windigo, however. She wanted to put the last weeks' events into written form - before Bon came home, preferably. So she shrugged, grabbed the quill, and set out to resuming her story.
"Dear diary! Today we're setting out for our vacation. I guess I would sound real excited were I not writing this after the whole thing..."
Lyra threw her hooves out in front of her. She wasn't sure what that would achieve, but she had to do something - anything. The white surrounded her, got into her eyes, swallowed her completely; she could only tell that she was accelerating by some innate sense she hadn't noted before. And she wanted none of that speed. She had already been quite worried about what would happen if she bumped into something-
Almost as if fate had read her mind, her hooves struck something. She never got to learn what the obstacle was, but it didn't really matter in the grander scale of things. A crack rang in her ears and she was thrown into the air. She didn't understand how she could be catapulted so high just from a mere collision, but the stomach-churning sensation didn't let her wonder too long. The icy wind bit into her face, penetrating the thin fur and produced a burning sensation on her skin. She tried to stop it, cover herself with her legs; but the limbs wouldn't follow her will whatsoever, only dangling loosely by her side, hobbling as the wind tore away at them.
Did I just break them...?
Bad news traded places with worse news right afterwards. She could tell she hit the apex of her trajectory; she began to slow down, her anxiety over her speed overshadowed by the nauseating feeling of weightlessness.
An endless white field beckoned her from below. She was falling, she was sure of that; but it was really impossible to tell when she would land. The blindingly white landscape provided no clues to her and she never had the pegasi's innate sense of speed or height either. Not that either could have served her well; she had no means to fly or lessen her impact.
But... but when did I get so high?
She was desperately trying to find a grip on the situation, even as her nose dug into the snow. Something gave away with a resounding crack and Lyra was sure she just heard her own neck snapping. She was mistaken however - but soon found that she wished she had been right.
She broke through the snow, the impact barely slowing her down. There was a hole lurking beneath the white cover; an enormous cavern. The whole setup was ridiculously fragile; it had only stayed put as long as nopony disturbed it. But the whole disguise began to fail once some fool had touched it, the snow folding and collapsing in on itself. Lyra could see the white mass dropping all around her, on top of her, falling like an avalanche, closing in on her... entombing her.
Help!
...was what she wanted to say, but she couldn't actually form words - on account of her mouth being full of snow. The sensation terrified her; but then her wicked journey came to an abrupt end. Her back hit something solid, the harsh landing squeezing every ounce of air out of her. She spat out a mixture of hot air, cold water and icy snow - then wheezed and gasped, weakly and pitifully.
"I told you not to touch the darned thing!"
Mustering every bit of power she had left in her broken body, Lyra opened her eyes and squinted upwards. A pony in a bright orange jacket was standing over her. He carried a number of long poles and was shaking his head at her, openly disapproving of the stupid tourist who had failed to heed his orders.
"It's really your own fault, you know."
Lyra opened her mouth. She tried speak, to retort how she couldn't be responsible when she didn't have any ideas about what happened; but her ability to speak was gone, only a weak patch of white mist leaving her mouth.
The landing must have done a number on her.
Don't just berate me, she glared at the other pony as terror began gripping her mind once more. Help me! I'm dying right next to your freaking hoof...!
"Well, well, well now... do not be so harsh on her. It may be her own fault, but it is really in our fortune."
The new voice got Lyra's immediate attention. She couldn't help but find it weird, having not just one but two ponies greet her in a cave that had been covered by snow just moments before. She didn't need to wonder long about the identity of the second voice's bearer, though; that pony gave her the favour of moving into her vision of his own volition.
A blue coated stallion with a white mane, she could recognize that sight anywhere.
It was that freak of a viscount who had barged into her room... after he had tried to sweet-talk himself into her confidence and subsequently had his goons try to murder her.
Get away from me!
"No need to panic, dear. I am not going to kill you," the viscount made a toothy grin and ran his tongue down his lips. "After all, there are way worse things that could happen to a clueless fool such as yourself... Ah, how lucky is it for me to have you come across my estate, ahahah!"
Lyra couldn't do anything but close her eyes and shiver. She was bracing for the inevitable pain that would follow, fully aware of how little good that would do her once the inevitable did start to happen. The best would have been to not be there at all.
This can't be happening!
If only life was as simple as that, denying the bad things that shouldn't have existed. Still waiting for the worst part of her remaining life to begin, Lyra grimaced as anxiety overpowered the rest of her mind.
Not like this! I- I still have so much to do!
She hadn't said anything to Bon when they parted, for example. Had she known that was the last time they'd meet... she would have surely said something heartfelt. Something profound. Something worthy of remembering her by. To take that away from her... that was an injustice of the greatest magnitude.
That idea was something she could finally hold onto.
Her courage returned. She would confront the viscount and tell him what she thought! He would probably shrug it off and bisect her anyway, but then at least she had tried. She opened her eyes-
-and the darkness barely changed. Nopony was standing by her side, though; that was a plus. Feeling warm was another nice change, especially after the ridiculous amounts of snow she had had to put up with. The stiff ground was also gone, replaced by soft fabrics that enveloped her. Blinking in confusion as she laid on her side, Lyra gulped and tried to move her legs. The limbs reacted properly, shuffling around until they got stuck in the thick blanket covering her. Only her front right leg hurt, the stitches still getting in her way.
The shock fresh in her mind, it took the dazed pony a little while to realize she was resting in her very own bed.
"Just a... dream?" Lyra blinked blindly, then took a deep breath.
Just a wicked bad dream.
Her blinks were slow; the bed was luring her back to sleep. The drowsiness returned as soon as the dread washed out of her mind; but truth be told, she had no real inclination to return to dreamland for a while. Princess Luna might be put off by the news, but one of her loyal subjects was signing off from the regularly scheduled night activity... as long as she could.
Rubbing her tired eyes and then yawning loudly, Lyra pushed the blanket off from her. She shuddered; the outside air felt chilly. That was normally the worst part of waking up, but right at that moment, she welcomed the refreshing sensation. It was nice to shudder. It was nice to breath, actually.
It was nice to be safe, to be unhurt, to be home... to be alive.
It was an odd feeling that came out of nowhere, but Lyra felt absolutely content.
She was happy and relaxed enough to remain in bed for a few extra seconds. With the blanket gone, the cold air made sure she wouldn't snooze back.
"Wait, a blanket?" she wrinkled her eyebrows and gave them a scratch. She didn't remember taking the blanket out from the drawer. She had been writing her diary, and then she... suddenly found herself sliding down a snowy hillside.
"Somepony must have put me to bed," Lyra wondered aloud and bonked herself on the head a tiny bit. It wasn't really difficult to deduce who that nameless benefactress could have been.
Bon, you crazy mare. You found me snoring on the bedside and was kind enough to not wake me up, weren't you.
Taking another deeper breath, Lyra gave herself a big smile. It came with a few bouts of growling and loud yelling, but it was pretty comforting to live with somepony like Bon.
"Oh! Master is awake."
Squinting to the source of the noise, Lyra found a brightly-coloured outline of a pony staring back at her.
"Morning, Snow-yaa..." Lyra tried to greet the windigo, but her sentence got interrupted by another elongated yawn. "...aaah. What time is it?"
"Early. I am not quite sure - but hmm, actually! A moment, if Master may," Snowy leaped to the window of the room, pressing her face against the glass pane. "The moon is pretty high, so probably a little past midnight."
"A brand new day then," Lyra mumbled. It was nothing but pure sentimentalism, but a wave of energy washed over her at the sound of midnight having passed.
"Isn't it a bit early for Master to be awake?" Snowy turned back to her, the weak lighting from the street barely dimming the ghost's blue outlines. "According to Master's trusted friend, Master should be sleeping until noon tomorrow... and not pop up in the middle of the night."
"I guess you're referring to Bon there," Lyra tried to digest the complicated sentences with a head still half-asleep. "When did she say I would sleep for so long?"
"When she tucked Master into bed," Snowy stated and walked back to the pony's bedside. "I watched Master fall asleep while working on her diary; but lacking a physical form, I couldn't do much but observe. Master's friend came back some time afterwards, deep in the night. She grumbled about how she should have known better than trusting Master's better judgement pertaining to her injured state, then put the diary away and made Master's bed. Nothing else worthwhile to report."
Lyra listened to the recount with a heavy head. She only jumped when the word 'diary' came up. She tried to grab a hold of Snowy - but her hooves passed through the incorporeal creature, and she landed on the floor instead.
"Master should really be more careful about-" Snowy hastily took a step backwards and dropped to the ground as well, keeping her eye-level the same as her master's.
"Ow... the diary," Lyra mumbled, her voice strained as befitting her uncomfortable position. Her lower jaw was resting on the ground, her neck turned at a sharp angle and her torso almost vertical. She didn't think of getting up properly just yet however - not until she got that matter cleared up. "Snowy, the diary. You don't sleep, right? Did... did Bon read into it?"
"I take that not even Master's most prized associate is allowed to read it? Master really wasn't kidding when she said it was a private collection of thoughts," Snowy whistled and raised her eyebrows, then swept the floor as she shook her head in denial. "But no, she did not. She did not even attempt, in fact. She just placed it onto the drawer over there."
"She's the best," Lyra sighed happily, then turned her attention to the signals her neck had been sending. "Also, ow. Oww! I think I should get up..."
"I don't think cold milk is going to help Master sleep any better," Snowy watched Lyra pour some of the white stuff into a glass.
"I don't think sleep's ever going to be on my schedule for the next decade," Lyra sighed and raised the glass to her mouth.
"Oh? It's a simple decision, just like that?" Snowy tilted her head to the side and perked her ears, the ghost completely baffled by the nonchalant answer. "That's strange. I thought all living organisms required a well defined period of rest. Had old Master known about this, he surely would have-"
The glass slammed back onto the table. Not really loudly - Lyra definitely did not want to wake Bon - just forcefully enough to get her point across.
"No more comparing me to old decrepit blue-bloods, got it?"
"Ye- yes. Of course not. Pardon my forgetfulness," Snowy backed off, way more terrified than she ought to be by any sane reasoning.
Lyra would have even cared, had her daily Snowy-acting-weird quota not been full for a half day already. She just filed the reaction off as another strange quirk and hastily moved along, putting the open box of milk back into the fridge.
"Anyhow, this means Master will have a lot of excess time," Snowy probed towards a new topic. The light from the fridge's opened door illuminated the small room for a moment, dimming out the ghost's blue form. "May I inquire how Master wishes to spend that?"
The fridge was shut with a faint thud and the kitchen sunk back into darkness. Doubly so for Lyra. The brief light had confused her eyes - she only saw the bright yellow afterimages, even when her eyelids were shut.
I need an eye patch. Then I'd have at least one eye working after my nightly fridge-binges! she fumed silently. It'd also look pretty cool, now that I think about it.
"Not quite sure. Maybe I'll talk like a pirate," she shrugged. She began to blink rapidly, and was intent on keeping at it until her sight returned; but with her lacking eyesight, she had completely missed the utterly puzzled face of her pet windigo. "I haven't really pulled all-nighters for a long while now. And even then I usually did so with a purpose. Just for the sake of it... nah, never before."
In all honesty, she didn't care what she could do during her nights. She just didn't want to sleep.
"Old Master used t-" Snowy pondered aloud, then stopped so abruptly as if she had been muzzled all of a sudden.
She hadn't. It was Lyra who gave the blinking a pause and switched to squinting instead, staring angrily - and still blindly - in the direction of the windigo.
"-ahaha. Ahaha... haaa?" Snowy giggled nervously. She was hardly the type for humour - and befittingly, her laughter was quite awkward, her whole being unused to the action. She put in very little effort as well - she was simply trying to get out of a tight spot by imitating a reaction she had often seen the living do. "Anyway, I was wondering if Master thought about... about... about..."
Letting her eyelids slide down all the way and her ears drop horizontal, Lyra held a hoof to her head in the cover of the darkness. She had often been frustrated by how only she could sense Snowy; but in certain moments she felt very glad the ghost couldn't embarrass her with its quirky behaviour.
"How about reading?" Snowy finally put an idea forward.
Why would you even propose that? You can't even read! Lyra pushed her hoof harder against her head, wrinkling the skin. Are you just rephrasing Old Master Did Whatever as your own random ideas now?
She cracked her eyes open and sighed.
Well, whatever. We're still making progress... small steps and blah blah.
The annoying yellow light had finally faded from Lyra's sight, and a monochrome world greeted her n turn. It was night and the lights were off, so only the moon provided some illumination. The end effect wasn't simply dark; she could almost liken it to arriving in some alternate world. Microscopic specks of dust danced in thin strands of light that sneaked in through the window. Everything in the kitchen traded colours for contrast; Lyra could have sworn she saw even the slightest bumps on the surfaces.
She had never really paid the night much care before, but she had to admit: that it was a really interesting sight.
Not interesting enough to keep her entertained longer than a half minute, though.
"Reading it is, then," she declared with a touch of finality, certain in her belief that the windigo wouldn't change her mind. She hobbled away from the window, into the darker part of the room. She almost stumbled once or twice, hooves bumping into stuff she had forgotten about; but she safely arrived to the small drawer in the hall in the end. Using her magic both to lift a pack of magazines and to provide some light on the way back, Lyra made her way back to the kitchen.
The amber aura around her horn easily overpowered the pale light of the moon. She made a sour note on that; the kitchen returned to its usual self, albeit with a lick of amber hue. Still, it couldn't be helped; she would need the light if she were to read.
The magazines landed on the kitchen table with a light crack. No unicorn magic binding them together any more, their stack fell apart. Magazines spilled in every direction, shiny pages crumpling and folding aimlessly. The sight made Lyra bite on her lips instinctively. While those magazines were old - purchased before they left for vacation -, she had never asked if Bon had wanted to read any of them anyway.
And Bon wouldn't be happy if something of her interest got damaged.
May have wanted to think of that BEFORE I dropped them, Lyra clenched her teeth and exhaled deeply. Aaargh. Why can't I simply wait and think before I do something!
"Whoaaa," Snowy moaned with unmasked admiration. "A veritable library! One as vast as at the doctor's place, too! Master continues to amaze me."
"Library?" Lyra squinted downwards, making doubly sure she had fetched what she had gone to grab. "What are you on about? These are just magazines."
"They are full of letters and pictures all the same! I can't even fathom how long it must have taken for ponies to write them," Snowy circled around the table, her eyes measuring the ramshackle pile of paper. "Each of these could be worth a smaller fortune back in old Mast- I mean, before my recent slumber."
Her eyebrows raised high, Lyra finally understood where the windigo was coming from.
"Well, times change! These are pretty worthless nowadays," she gave the topmost magazine a rough push, flinging it across the kitchen table. "You can get them thrown at you for free if you ask. The ones from last week, anyway. Still gotta' pay for the fresh news."
"Astounding..." Snowy gawked. She was completely dumbstruck, her gaze running back and forth without much comprehension. "It's like everypony is a noble nowadays..."
"That's what I've been trying to bash into that thick skull of yours!" Lyra bumped the windigo on the head. Tried to, rather; her hoof went straight through the incorporeal body. Snowy didn't as much as notice the attempt. Hastily retracting her hoof, Lyra made a mental note to never ever do that again. "Ah- ahem! Anyway, you gave me a real good idea there. We're going to spend our nights reading!"
"Hurrah! I was useful!" Snowy burst into a cheer. "Will Master permit me to look at the pictures this time around, then?"
"Nope. No pictures," Lyra gave a firm verbal smack to those hopes. "I said that we're going to read. We. Plural."
"But I can't-" Snowy made a half-hearted attempt at reminding her master, the upbeat tone quickly fading from her faltering voice.
"Oh, sure you can. It's not like I was born with some innate magic that allows me to read," Lyra flashed a toothy grin and cracked a fashion magazine open with her magic. She then grabbed a spoon that had been forgotten on the table, and pressed it against the paper. "I will read aloud and you follow the writing, okay? Follow the spoon, Snowy."
The windigo didn't seem quite as enthusiastic about the whole idea as Lyra had hoped.
"I'm... not sure if this is wise," Snowy scratched the side of her head and fiddled anxiously, shifting around in place. "Master may come to regret this. Old Mas- I mean, I have always been told it's not a good idea if ice demons learn too much-"
A loud snort cut off the rest of that sentence.
"You're bothersome," Lyra spoke through her clenched teeth. She would have also exhaled steam were she capable of doing so; she certainly was angry enough for such feats. "Just forget about that old wart already! I am your current Master, and I will not stand to have somepony like you get treated like that! So you will be reading with me - and that's an order, if you won't listen otherwise!"
"Ye- yes, Master," Snowy quailed.
"Good!" Lyra nodded firmly and snapped her head back to the magazines. She wasn't sure exactly why, but she was so angry it took her real effort to not stab the spoon through the thin paper. "So, this line reads - The newest trends this winter in Equestria..."
"A... Rrr... T... L..."
"Nope," Lyra sighed and poked the spoon into the same spot for the third time. "That's an 'i'... art-i-st, see? It should be easy to spot - has that fancy dot on top of it."
"The one before didn't have one either," Snowy whined and pointed a hoof to the previous sentence.
"That's because that's a capital letter."
"Oh," Snowy blinked at the thin line of black ink. She then dropped her head and hung it low, publicly signalling her defeat and subsequent surrender. "Did Master ever think this whole reading thing is a tad... complicated? I am shocked at how every commoner pony can apparently learn this."
"That's because you're stuck with a pretty useless teacher," Lyra grinned widely and slammed the magazine closed. "I'm only supposed to play music, for Celestia's sake! This is quite far from my field of expertise."
Snowy perked her ears at the remark. A long delay preceded her response however - it was obvious she was having issues phrasing her thoughts. Lyra didn't interrupt in any way whatsoever; she sat still and eyed the ghost, curious as to what would follow.
"For what it's worth Master, I am infinitely thankful anyway," Snowy finally spat it out, eyes still floor-ward. "For Master to go to such lengths... haa, I have nothing on me."
The skin at the back of her lips pulling backwards as she made a grimace, Lyra pressed all the air out of her lungs. That wasn't the reaction she had been hoping for - but it didn't truly surprise her either. It would have been accurate to say she had been dreading it... and just tried not to think about it.
As if not thinking about things ever solved them, she berated herself internally. Lyra Heartstrings, you're the uncrowned queen of putting your head into the sand.
"Don't fret it," she found her voice after the mental punishment of her own self. "I'm sure you're exceptional, somehow. I've had a hooded weirdo enter my head and sign a contract with me, after all! I'm sure that was for more than just some invisible baggage. So we just need to keep looking... I'm sure something will turn up."
"Bwaaah!" Snowy blared and rushed under the table.
Lyra was taken by such surprise that she couldn't follow the move; she only crouched and peeked once Snowy had been completely cuddled up.
What's it this time? Lyra eyed the windigo, a decidedly unamused look on her face. She was giving her best, so there was no reason for things to turn out such a way.
"Master is also providing me emotional support!" Snowy continued to shout, unaware that her master had also crept closer. "THIS ISN'T SUPPOSED TO GO THIS WAAHAHAHAAY!"
Oh sweet pony princess on a pogo stick, Lyra straightened back up and placed her forehead onto the table's edge. Stick to music, girl. Just stick to music and let Bon handle the rest.
She was sure that making a windigo break into sobbing tears was an achievement of its own. One that signified how much she had flopped as a master. Or as a pony in general.
She couldn't wait until Bon woke up and cleared that mess up.
I guess she's right and I'm still a big filly, Lyra ceded. The bawling from under the table showed no signs of ebbing though, and was getting on her nerves fast. Lyra's first idea was to ask the windigo to just shut up... but then she changed her mind. That surely would have gone great ways to improve Snowy's morale, after all.
Her second best idea was bearing the noise. Somehow.
It may be easier if I can distract myself, I guess.
So she cracked another magazine open. A good story would surely help her ease up...
"BLAURGH!"
Lyra bit hard onto her tongue and perked her ears. She counted to ten and only dead silence followed; the house was silent. She exhaled and her nerves let up a little; she was sure she had woken up Bon for a moment, there.
All because of a stupid magazine.
Of all the things, a two-page poster of Octavia and her lovely temporary band were smiling at her.
Just what I need to relax, is it? Lyra furrowed her eyebrows, a mild shake running down her neck. Is this going to be another of THOSE days, really?
"Oh, it's that pony again."
The sudden appearance of Snowy delivered another hammer blow to Lyra's shaky calmness. She was still under the spell of her previous fright though, so she managed to keep her scream under control. She just frowned and leaned away.
"I recall this pony from the book at the doctor's office," Snowy hummed at Octavia's picture. "Master voiced her dislike even back there. Less loudly, perhaps."
C-calm! Lyra glared at the windigo. You're like, so calm you piss me off! Weren't you a shaking wreck a moment ago?!
It was nice to see Snowy having recovered, though. Beyond the internal voices of her envy that is.
"Yeah... I don't like her," Lyra sighed and returned her attention to the poster in the magazine. "I would say the feeling's mutual, but I'd bet my favourite shampoo that she doesn't even know about me. Aww, that pisses me off even more...!"
"Sounds like an unfavourable position," Snowy nodded curtly and leaned closer to the magazine herself. "I fail to see what is so harmful about her, though. She looks like another pony. Quite refined, too."
"Shows what you know!" Lyra yanked her head away with a huff, then turned back slowly as an idea struck her. "Hey, Snowy!"
"Yes?" the windigo propped her head up. Her whole being snapped to attention, like a bowstring ready to fire.
"Let's work on getting something useful out of you," Lyra sneered evilly and moved right into Snowy's face. "Couldn't you try doing something about that pony?"
"Doing... what, exactly?" Snowy bore her discomfort out with a grin and tried to back off a little. "Master may ought to be a bit more specific..."
"How can I be specific when neither of us knows what you can do?" Lyra fumed and rose her right leg at the magazine. "Do whatever you do! C'me on, you're an imponification of ice and fear! Do what windigos do, if nothing else! Jump, Snowy! Maim! Kill! Freeze!"
Snowy didn't do any of those. She simply sat down and eyed her master with open suspicion.
"Nope. Haven't lost my mind yet," Lyra parried the most obvious case that could have been born against her. "I was just... you know, trying to psych you up."
"Obviously," Snowy raised an eyebrow and cocked her head sideways.
"But seriously. Try something. It may be Octy, but that's still just a magazine. Printed paper. Nopony will miss it if you do something terrible to it," Lyra lowered her leg with a sigh. "Just... don't break the table, m'kay? Bon would be angry if she were to wake up to the noises of me breaking the furniture. And currently, I think I'm going to be dead if Bon is going to be angry."
"R-right. That's, um, real reassuring to hear, Master," Snowy gulped audibly, but turned to the open magazine anyway. She focused, her concentration palpable...
It was only for a moment, but Lyra could have sworn she saw something. The windigo flickered and shone brightly, the crimson eyes burning with an immense light - then all the colours faded, back to their usual intensity.
Lyra felt curious and waited for a few more moments, but Snowy didn't appear to plan on following up that performance with anything.
"Okay... what did you just do?" she asked, cautiously darting her eye between the magazine and the ghost.
"No idea?" Snowy scratched her head, sharing her master's confusion. "I was just... trying something, as Master had instructed me to. I was doing whatever felt... natural to do."
"Natural, huh?" Lyra nodded and turned to the magazine proper. "Well, let's see..."
She grabbed the magazine with her magic and drew it closer to herself, carefully and cautiously. There was nothing strange about the papers though; she had expected to find them frozen at least, but not even that much had happened. She flipped through the pages real quick, but there was nothing strange about them. A simple magazine about various artists, some pages serving as interesting stories, others as glorified ads. A painter here, a showmare there, an aspiring writer, a temporary band with-
"BLAurmfph."
Lyra bit onto her tongue just in time to prevent herself from breaking into a shout again. To think somepony would sneak Octavia into the middle of a magazine! The nerve! Didn't the editors know that legit musicians were also reading that magazine-
-wait a second.
Her eyes glued to the poster in the middle of the magazine, Lyra had the oddest sense of déja vu. She was sure she had flipped through that magazine before already. She actually remembered the articles... except for that poster in the middle.
That was some real selective forgetfulness right there.
What the...
"Master?"
Lyra wasn't paying the windigo any attention. She was busy - an idea had crossed her mind. A truly preposterous, nonsense idea. An idea that only needed something very simple to verify. She grabbed the spoon and jabbed it through the page, right through Octavia's prized violin.
Okay, that's ought to leave a mark.
"Snowy!" she turned to the windigo right afterwards, shoving the magazine straight into the poor ghost's face. "Whatever you did a second ago - do it again!"
"Wha- why?" Snowy faltered under the inexplicable command, but complied nonetheless. "As you wish, Master... but I don't see the point..."
Lyra saw the flash from the cover of the magazine. This time she didn't hesitate; she was full of anticipation. She closed the magazine and started going through the pages, hastily flipping them one after another. A story she remembered... another article she had read... another, another, yet another...
Then she stopped in the middle, and an excited breath escaped her mouth.
She arrived to a huge poster about Octavia and her temporarily assembled band.
There was something wrong with that poster, even beyond the dubious choice of subject. Lyra could easily recall having skimmed through that whole magazine no less than three times before; she could have even recounted the headlines had she cared to do so. The poster in the middle, however... that seemed new to her. That struck her as odd.
That double-page picture should have been impossible to miss, but she had no recollection of it whatsoever.
A part of her was willing to chalk that up to random chance; she had always been quite willing to ignore Octavia, after all. She couldn't simply leave the matter at that, though; the page sported a gaping hole, and that piqued her interest. A damaged poster in an otherwise pristine magazine was quite the oddity. Especially since only two ponies had access to that magazine - and it couldn't have been Bon; her friend had repeatedly made a point of keeping herself out of Lyra's 'self-invented rivalry'.
So it was me, Lyra felt her heart beat faster, her gaze fixed on the hole in the page. The puncture was right where Octavia's violin used to be; too specific for some random damage. Mulling over the fact, Lyra absent-mindedly rose her eyes and glanced around... then grabbed the spoon from the table. She held the cheap piece of cutlery in front of her, tried to judge its dimensions; then jabbed it through the hole. The spoon slid through the opening, a perfect fit.
"Master, is that..." Snowy inched closer, the importance of the damaged paper also dawning on her.
"And you said you weren't good at anything," Lyra whispered, completely mesmerized by the sight. She only had a rough inkling of what she may have stumbled over, but even the implications set her mind ablaze.
She was onto something huge.
She threw the magazine away and grabbed another at random. She was hasty, but in truth there was no need for her to be; she had a whole night to test theories. She just couldn't help being excited.
By the time morning arrives, Lyra Heartstrings could be in possession of a supernatural power that nopony else had ever heard about.